The Phoenix Reckoning (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 6) (4 page)

He could tell from the display that their crippled starship was trapped by the gravity well of the Ophiuchus System’s primary planet. If they weren’t destroyed first, either by further enemy attack or fires within their own ship, the ISS
Renown
would impact with the planet, hopefully striking an ocean. Whatever the case, they were all doomed.

Sir Reginald had no more fight left within him, so he leaned back, clamping his right hand down over the gash on his left leg, and watched the 3D display as the enemy fleet continued their advance toward the planet, ready to destroy the few surviving ships that stood in their way.

I hope I did you proud, Queen Kalila
, thought Sir Reginald.
I gave three times as good as I got
. But in the end, no matter how fiercely he’d led the defense, nor how hard and desperately the defenders fought, they were always outmatched, and victory for them had never been in the cards. All they could do was bloody the enemy’s nose a little, and that they’d done—and then some.

New sparks appeared as the defense post caught fire, scorching the officer who had taken the station, the third to do so in the battle. Another officer ran to his aid and tried to beat the fire out. It was no use. None of it was any use. Not anymore.

Sir Reginald was about to close his heavy eyelids, which, with all of his injuries, and the lack of oxygen, had become very hard to keep pried open, when something caught his attention. It was too late to be of any hope to him, or his ship, or any of the defenders, whatever few remained. But he could have sworn he saw the enemy ships on the 3D display stop their advance and then reverse, hard and fast, as if fleeing the system. When he tried to get a better look, which was difficult with all of the smoke, the 3D display failed and went offline. But Sir Reginald was quite sure he’d seen the enemy reverse course.

Did we do it?
He wondered, thinking perhaps he and the other defenders had held onto the system long enough for the queen and her fleet to arrive. It didn’t make sense mathematically, he knew that, there was no way the queen could have made it here already. Not if she’d fought in the Thetican System like she’d planned. That was all the way out in The Corridor. She couldn’t be here. But if it wasn’t her, then what was it? What had caused the enemy to turnabout as if to leave the system?

Maybe it was us
, he thought proudly, just as he was overtaken by a fit of coughing while struggling for each breath.
Maybe we showed them the prize was too costly to take. Maybe they fear the defense on the ground is as stalwart as the defense was in space, and they don’t want to lose their men three to one
.

Whatever the reason, whether Sir Reginald and his forces had played a large role in the enemy’s withdrawal or none at all, he was pleased to see that Ophiuchus would remain a free system. At least for one more day. And, if he’d had anything to do with that, then he considered that the crowning achievement of his life’s legacy.

At last, he closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.

***

“Now that you’re all here, perhaps one of you can explain to me just what the hell happened back there,” said Kalila, looking at each of her gathered advisors. Most of her knights were not present; in the chaos, every ship had jumped randomly away from the Thetican System to escape the shockwave, and so she was limited to those who had either been aboard the
Black Swan
, or who had followed it.

“Your Highness,” said Sir Gregory, “the Thetican System’s parent star experienced a super-collapse. The result of it was…I’m sorry to say, unfortunate for anyone who failed to escape the system.”

“Yes, I saw the collapse,” said Kalila. “I meant,
how
did it collapse?
Why
? Did our analysis turn up anything?”

“Initial analysis is complete, Your Majesty,” said Captain Adiger. “All signs indicate that your suspicion was correct, the star was collapsed by an isotome weapon.”

“But, who fired it? And how did it get past our fighter screen?” she demanded. She had intentionally deployed so many fighters and charged them with the primary mission of spotting and eliminating any missiles heading toward the Thetican sun. Evidently, one had slipped through, but
how
?

“After review,” said Adiger, “we could not identify the source. Nor did any of the logs from the battle record a missile fired in the direction of the Thetican System’s parent star.”

“So, you’re telling me that an isotome weapon was
somehow
deployed, by
someone
, who went completely undetected, and the result of it was the total loss of the Thetican System, all lives on the surface of the planet, and the utter annihilation of half our fleet—and nearly all of the remaining enemy fleet—and
that
is the only explanation we’ve got?”

“I’m afraid so, Your Majesty,” said Adiger.

She looked at each of the others, expecting one of them to volunteer more information, but none did.

“Gentlemen,” she said. “You’ll
have
to do better than that.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” said Sir Gregory. “Although I would guard your expectations, My Queen, all ships have already reported their footage and observations, and we have already analyzed it.”

“Then analyze it again,” snapped Kalila. “At the very least give me some proof that the Rotham did it. We need to pin the blame on
someone,
and it must have been them, unless some third party was there…”

“We cannot prove the missile came from a Rotham starship,” said Sir Gregory. “We can assume it did, since no human ship was armed with such a weapon, and no other ships were present during the action, but it seems a strangely illogical move on their part. More of their ships were destroyed by the subsequent shockwave, and they surrendered any hope of ever gaining Thetican System as the useful foothold it would have been, a strategic vantage point within The Corridor.”

“They also slaughtered billions of our people and deprived us of that same strategic foothold,” said Kalila. “I have no doubt they did this out of spite, or revenge, once it became clear that they would lose the battle. What I need from you, is to identify the ship that fired the missile. So I can point the blame accurately and bring the perpetrator to justice.”

“I shall do my best,” said Sir Gregory, not looking optimistic.

Kalila was about to give further instructions when she spotted Garrick enter the bridge and stand patiently at attention. He was one of her spymasters and she’d charged him with keeping her apprised of the situation at Ophiuchus. By the grim look on his face, he didn’t come here to report good news.

“You’re all dismissed,” said Kalila, waving her advisors away.

Garrick approached her. “I have a report, Your Highness.”

“Ophiuchus?” asked Kalila, knowingly.

“Yes, Your Majesty. The planet…”
Here it comes
, she thought. The news of brutal invasion. “Remains ours.”

“What?” asked Kalila, almost too surprised to sound happy. “Then, Sir Reginald?”

“Killed in action, I’m afraid,” said Garrick. “In fact, all ships dispatched to defend the system have been lost.”

Kalila bowed her head, giving brave Sir Reginald a moment of silence out of respect. He had not volunteered to lead that battle, but neither had he shirked the duty when she gave it to him. A profound loss, to be certain.

“If all ships were lost,” said Kalila, “how is it that the planet still remains ours? Did Caerwyn’s fleet not invade?”

“They did not. After the battle, they withdrew. My intelligence suggests they are on their way to Capital System.”

“That makes sense,” said Kalila, thinking of how Raidan and his forces were nearly there, threatening to bomb the planet if they didn’t hand over Caerwyn Martel to him on a silver platter.

“If I may have your leave?” asked Garrick. “I have matters that require my attention and nothing further to report.”

“Of course, on your way.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he bowed, then left. She wondered how much the spymaster knew, how much he’d figured things out.
Do you know the plan?
She thought, watching him walk away.
Do you know about the deals that went sour? Can you tell me who destroyed the Thetican star?

No matter how well she had planned things, and how many deals she had made through her various connections—a network that was vast and deep—nothing seemed to be going the way it was supposed to. Certainly Thetican System wasn’t supposed to be lost! She thought of the billions of lives that had perished, souls briefly terrified as they stared upon their approaching doom, only to be massacred in the blink of an eye a few moments later.

That wasn’t supposed to happen
, she thought.
None of this was supposed to happen
. She’d had everything meticulously planned. Everything was to follow a certain design, one that should have been foolproof and sufficient to defend her people. For that was all she had ever really wanted, to protect them. Now, though, as she looked back on recent events, she knew she’d been more than betrayed. And the seeds she’d planted had reaped her a harvest of blood and chaos that she had never asked for.

Can no one be trusted in this galaxy
? She wondered, as she walked to the command position to meet Captain Adiger.

She wondered how everything had gone
this
wrong. And whether that meant Caerwyn had won, despite Raidan’s brash gambit. Her fleet was in ruins, and now, should Caerwyn defend himself from Raidan long enough, he would stand unchallenged as the leader of the Empire…and he would probably be the last one at that.

In all of my planning and after all of my effort, have I accidentally sat Caerwyn upon the throne and given him my father’s crown?

“How may I serve you, Your Majesty?” asked Adiger, bowing as she arrived at his side. His words broke her concentration.

“Yes,” she said. “I want a status report on all our surviving ships—everybody who made it out of Thetican System. They are to be deployed in small groups in each of the various loyal systems of The Corridor. Order them to conduct immediate repair and resupply, we may need to see battle again. And soon.”

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” said Adiger. He commanded his station chiefs to relay the orders to the scattered fleet.

“I would also like a list of the casualties on my desk within the hour,” added Kalila. Like the blood bath that had been the Apollo Yards battle, she intended on reading each and every name of every soldier or crewman who died in her service. Even though this time it would likely be easier to read the survivors than the deceased.

“Yes, of course, Your Highness.”

“And, finally, do we have any intelligence as to the whereabouts of the Rotham attack fleet? Surely some of them must have escaped the system.”

“Our scout ships traced their jump signatures to deep inside the DMZ,” said Adiger. “It appears that the Rotham have ordered a full retreat.”

For now, anyway
, thought Kalila. “Thank you, Captain, that will be all.”

***

Caerwyn’s motorcade made slow progress to his bunker. In all, it consisted of fifty armored vehicles, including several heavily-fortified luxury cars that were identical to one another. All the better to disguise which car he was truly in.

“Damn that maniac Raidan,” whispered Caerwyn to himself.

“Pardon me, Your Highness, did you ask something?” said the attendant sitting across from him as they made their way slowly along Capital World’s rain-slicked streets.

“No, nothing,” said Caerwyn, annoyed. He wanted to appear strong, to seem defiant of Raidan’s threat, and dismiss it, but after reviewing the tactical capabilities of the
Harbinger
, along with Raidan’s other ships, Caerwyn realized that the threat was a serious one. Serious enough that if he stayed in his estate, or in the palace, he might die from orbital bombardment. If he hid, he would almost certainly survive, but the risk to the public was great enough that, should Raidan prove himself a psychopath and make good on his threat, it could easily be enough to raise a riot against him. And Caerwyn Martel was not about to be the first king of the Empire to be ousted by a torch-wielding mob.

Which led him here, in this miserable convoy surrounded by guards and retainers, each of whom had been highly paid to ensure their loyalty. And as they lumbered around every corner, inching their way toward the secret underground bunker’s entrance, Caerwyn expected them to encounter resistance. He wasn’t the most popular king that Capital World had ever seen—not yet—which meant that many thousands, or even millions, or
more
, of the planet’s citizens would likely be happy enough to give him up in order to save their own asses.

Ingrates and cowards
, thought Caerwyn. A king should not have to cower before his own people. He should be able to boldly sit his throne and command the respect and love of all! Not go hiding down some murky tunnel into an underground fortress so he can protect himself from his own people. His own subjects!